Desert

The Triple Crown

“I’ve loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” –Galileo Galilei

“In the death of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer.” -Albert Camus

On April 7th, 2002 I got dropped off at the southern terminus of the famed Appalachian Trail. I diffidently weighed my oversized backpack at the Amicalola State Falls Ranger Station before the approach trail to Springer Mountain. Impossibly, the scale tipped a massive 58 pounds. I had recently broken up with a girl that I loved and lived with for 3.5 years, flunked out of graduate school, and was homeless. Even worse the first few drops of a cold Georgian spring rain began to fall. Little did I know that it would pour for the following two weeks. I reckoned my success for completing a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail was slim and none and Slim (me) just twisted his knee badly and had never slept alone overnight in the woods. Twelve years, 3 long distance trails, and 7,000 miles later, I ended my Continental Divide Thru-hike the same way I started the AT: in two weeks of rain.

Steady and I finished our triple crown together on September 20th, at 12:28PM at Copper Mountain, CO after flipping and hiking south from Glacier National Park. Miraculously the sun came out the afternoon before and we had a clear, starry night! The temperature dipped to 25 degrees but for the first time in two weeks we got to cowboy camp under the endless stars without being rained on. After an emotional walk up 3000 feet to Uneva Pass we took our “completion” photos with the requisite kitschy Burger King crowns that we awkwardly acquired in Frisco the prior afternoon. It still seems so unreal to not have any miles to hike tomorrow.

It has been my humble privilege to be tutored by these three trails. I have gained confidence that only comes with walking amongst the tallest mountains, harshest winds, oldest forests, and most extreme environs. I have loved and lived outside for an accumulated year and a half, walked through almost every possible ecosystem, and pushed the limits of my body in ways that I never could have imagined. On the AT I tried walking a girl out of my head, on the PCT I tried walking one in, and on the CDT I wised up and simply walked with one. I discovered the therapeutic effects of walking in the woods that have allowed me to come to terms with biggies like: the eventual cessation of my fast temper, the power of positive thinking, and going after whatever it is that I want out of life. I believe we create our own reality and think that anything is possible. I have come to be amazed by the beauty of process that exists in nature. The cyclical manifestation of processes like: photosynthesis, germination, sublimation, erosion, heating, freezing, breathing, and condensation are intuitively beautiful. But the symphony of their molecular machinations and chemical symbiosis are something that I have come to revere. The critical means of dispersion in nature is astounding. The crazy world of birds and insects give the woods and those wild places far removed from the hand of man a sense of movement. Joseph Campbell wrote that we do not seek the meaning of life but the experience of living. To that end the simple act of moving with my own two feet makes me feel connected to Her and truly alive. I was rewarded for my movement by bearing witness to a forest fire started by a lightning strike less than a mile away. I experienced honesty and camaraderie that only comes with walking with somebody for thousands of miles. I’ve heard the feral call of deer, bears, elk, hawks, packs of coyotes and the numerous quantities of bird songs, mating calls, and lullabies. I have felt hundreds of unidentified insects, spiders, caterpillars, dragonflies, mosquitoes, and butterflies crawl up the standing hairs of my arm. I have observed the intelligence of the forest and can barely fathom the millions of things we don’t understand about her. I have fallen in love with the texture and scent of pine, cedar, and fir sap. I have melted against sunbeams peeking out of week-long boxed up clouds. I have ached to sleep on soft pine needles, desert puffy sand, and the supine position of peering up at the inexorable night skies. Like Tesla’s imagination, I marveled at the mysteries and sensation of charged air from an impending thunderstorm. I have befriended and regarded as my equal hundreds of languishing plants, ebullient flowers, and my favorite: trees. I have come to know how phenomenal food can taste from my starvation, the ecstasy of cleanliness from my filth, the endless bounds of fellowship from my solitude, the paroxysms of joy from sadness and the triumph of accomplishment over my failures.

As we descended into the town of Copper Mountain I was astonished by the invasive sounds of I-70 echoing off the ridge and how nobody ever thinks about what is drowned out. Her voice is there for those that put away their busy schedules, agendas, cars, chainsaws, careers, ATVs, television sets, rifles and phones. Before you trade all your freedom away for comforts go to where you can still hear the call. It has become my beacon.

If you have followed my blog this trail; you know this trail has often been a slog. There have been some amazing highlights like the unparalleled beauty of Glacier National Park, the uniqueness of Yellowstone, and the desolate wonder of New Mexico. But in retrospect post-holing above tree line on impossibly sharp angled snow slopes, failed logistics, shitty water, dangerous fords, frightening lightning storms and thoroughly soaked bones and spirits were integral to the experience. I got to walk through the good and bad with somebody I love and that has been the difference. Without each other’s encouragement we would have gotten off this carnival ride awhile back.

    Acknowledgements:

Unlike the other trails, the CDT has a dearth of trail “magic.” It was the second to last day on a hitch to town we got picked up by an extremely passionate and affable man named Ira. His enthusiasm, honesty, and positive admiration for what we were about to accomplish was the first that we experienced on the entire trip. We were strongly buoyed and surprised by his sheer kindness and the force of his positivity. His huge pat on our backs was appreciated and needed.

When our package didn’t arrive at Benchmark, MT we were totally screwed. We were out of food and had another 100+ mile section to go. We were forced to hitch on an extremely remote road and hope was dimming after 6.5 hours in the sweltering sun when an honest, pleasant, and intelligent couple named Mike and his wife Mary picked us up. They drove us all the way to Helena and shared their home and stories. In essence they saved our skins and our trip.

Outside of Pagosa Springs we got our first dose of magic from a previous triple crowner named Grizzly. He gave us free reign of his beautiful home in the mountains and rides in and out-of-town. His kindness was legendary.

To all the people who took a chance on us hitchhiking and gave us rides thank you so much!

To Hugh, Jason, Mike, Wayne, You guys are my brothers and thanks a million times over for bringing the “noise.”

To JB, Siva, Srin, Jen, Javi, Chris, Jennifer, Doug, Kelly, Smokehouse and MLK: I can’t wait to see you all and sink some pints soon!

To my Mom without whose support, unconditional love and service these trails never would have been possible. I love you.

To Heather my navigator, who saw me at my very worst and best, you made the bad times bearable and the good times epic. Thanks for steering the ship, keeping me afloat in the stormy waters, and demonstrating the importance that comes with a steady approach. Congrats, I am proud of you!

Thanks to everybody else for reading and those that have touched and inspired me along the way.

So this brings me to the very familiar and annual million dollar question, what’s next?
Next week I plan on taking some time to help with flood recovery for those good folks in northern Colorado doing whatever I can to help. After that and next spring, who knows? Whatever does come my way I know I will move confidently and embrace it. Maybe one of you will want to go for a little bicycle ride with me…

around the world?

Cheers!
-Skeeter

Categories: CDT, Desert, glacier national parl, hiking, long distance hiking, thru-hiking, trails, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The Great Basin

Go where you think you want to go
Do everything you were sent here for
Fire at will if you hear that call
Touch your hand to the wall at night
Promises.
Words. -I. MacKaye

Howdy, pardners! We have reached the boom bust town of Rawlins, WY. We started this stretch from the historically epic South Pass City. Strolling through this abandoned ghost town conjured up images of gunfights over rightful possession of horses, cowboys being thrown out of saloons, and pioneers finding passage via the Oregon Trail. Unfortunately, as it sits now you won’t see authentic cowboys but rather Japanese tourists wearing oversized cowboy hats, tattered brochures in kiosks scattering the road and tumbleweeds sailing across the street’s boundary. I was looking forward to the 120 mile walk across the Great Basin as a respite from the stormy and torrential Wind River Mountains. However by day two, the record triple digit heat began taking effect. Unlike the Southern California desert on the PCT there is not even a semblance of shade. Worse yet was the deteriorating water situation. Most of the “drinkable” water had to be filtered and retrieved from defecatory bovine puddles. It doesn’t matter how many times one runs this water ordure through a Sawyer Squeeze filter the taste of feces never goes away. Steady discovered that Peach Tea flavoring was the best palliative in obtunding the taste of this water. I had Wyler’s Lemonade that did a considerably less effective job. In fact the taste of lemonade for me may have been permanently and irrevocably ruined by its newly discovered correlation to fecal coliform. There was a surprisingly abundant supply of wildlife in these harsh environs. We saw herds of bounding antelope, sage grouse ambuscades, hundreds of insouciant cows, and heard the canorous call of Canus latrans every dusk and dawn. The most beautiful time in the desert for me was in the cool evenings when the angry sun finally decided to settle behind the horizon. The constellation-stuffed, night sky was the clearest and brightest that I have seen on this trip. I saw tons of shooting stars, satellites, and galaxy clusters. There were so many stars I could imaginarily draw the lines in the constellation like some gigantic, connect-the-dots painting. I was strongly reminded why I like this state. I have always enjoyed Wyoming not for the things here but for the things omitted. There are not undulating car horns, suffocating crowds of people, cacophonous traffic, or the cloying pablum that plagues most cities. These desolate landscapes have always indulged my sense of self-reflection and space. Out here I feel like I have room to think. The highlights of the desert came on the third day when we reached Brenton Spring and the only tree in the 120 mile trek. We spent the entire afternoon drinking water, talking, and napping. We also met an ultra fast, first time thru-hiker named Raffle. He was attempting to hike the entire basin in 3 days. We spent a couple of hours exchanging hiking stories. I couldn’t imagine starting with the CDT as my first thru-hike but he was doing better than me and well on his way to finishing his goal on the Day of The Dead in Mexico November 1st. The basin is also home to a great deal of oil and gas production. We saw these tireless workers in their heavy coveralls toiling in the hot summer. I may have been hot and uncomfortable in my running shorts and short-sleeved t-shirt but they had to be flat-out miserable in their attire. Most of these workers were also very friendly and more than one offered us water and asked if we were doing ok. They must think we are absolutely nuts to choose to walk through such an arid and harsh place. I think the same of them working out here but at least they are making copious amounts of money doing what they do.

Tonight and tomorrow we are spending some zero days in the culturally necrotizing town of Rawlins. My mother has been extremely kind to come and put us up in a motel to rest our tired soles. We plan on catching up with some missing calories and strenuously working out our air conditioner. Next weekend we will be meeting up with my fellow band mates for a cookout up on Battle Pass. The walk south will become a little more serious after that but until then I am going to enjoy this last gasp of summer.

Categories: CDT, Desert, hiking, long distance hiking, thru-hiking, trails, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Desert Wind

 

There is no romance in this land

just tiny elf owlets begging in desperate chorus

from their hollowed saguaro

for their mother’s catch

and the ferocious beating of insect wings

against the searing air like the dying gasp

of an old plodding bass drum

Everything is poisonous or stings or pricks or bites

Behind the chaparral bush and rare cacti bloom

Beware the coiled warning thrum

With the soul of a poet and

the soles of a dead man hiking

I’ll walk 700 miles through this place

just to hold her hand

Out here, it’s not what we acquire

but how shit gets moved around. -Skeeter

Categories: Desert, hiking, long distance hiking, PCT, thru-hiking, Uncategorized | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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